The Night of the Claim Jumper
by Gorgolo Chick
Summary: Based on the television series. A 'respectable citizen' is using less-than-respectable methods to steal the mining claims of independent prospectors, and they've sent to the Federal Government for help.


The Night of the Claim Jumper

Gorgolo Chick

**Disclaimer**: No infringement is intended upon the properties owned by Warner Bros, CBS, CBS-Viacom, CBS-Paramount, CBS-Turner or any CBS affiliate. This work is not for profit.

"Billy McCardles and this government man are a dad-blamed waste of time," John Jessup muttered to whoever might listen to him. "Mandrake's lawyer makes sure everything he done looks legal. That's all the government gives a damn about." He spat onto the dirty floor of the saloon backroom where a motley assortment of men were gathered. "Prospectors getting' their claims stole; some of 'em killed by 'accidents' that never shoulda happened; don't matter to nobody but us."

On the heels of this comment the outside door opened and a husky red-haired and -bearded man filled the frame. He scanned the suddenly-quiet group, meeting the eyes of each man there. When his gaze met Jessup's, he spoke.

"We've a better turnout than I expected." He had a barely noticeable Scottish burr. "Maybe now we'll be making some progress." He stepped aside to let a second man enter.

There was intensity in the stranger's blue-green eyes and a set to his jaw that held every eye. This set him apart more than did his close-fitted blue suit. He was perfectly dressed, and yet he didn't look the part of a dude. He resembled the gun that hung at his hip - handsome and deadly.

"My name is James West," he stated firmly. "I'm with the United States Secret Service, and I'd like to help you."

"Just how?" Jessup took up the challenge, but without his earlier rancor.

"First by finding out everything you can tell me about your situation, since you know it and the men involved better than I do."

"They ain't men who'll give up 'cause some fancy dude with a badge tells 'em to." Jessup continued to meet West's steady gaze. "Ain't likely no way to prove nothing against Mandrake, neither, even if you catch a few of the scum as do his dirty work. Gonna take a heap of cunning to get at that man."

West smiled slightly. "I've got that covered," he commented.

Seemingly despite himself, Jessup grinned at the confidence of the man.

***

There was only one other saloon; a fine structure owned, West was told, by Horatio Mandrake, wealthy and respected citizen. West headed over there after his meeting to study the opposing forces. The place was also the hang-out for a group of hired thugs and gunmen, although Mandrake did not associate with these men.

His recently acquired 'manager of mines' did. This man, who called himself 'Trueley', was reputed to be a strike-buster from back east. He was a dark man who dressed in dark clothes, a worn collar and a dusty bowler hat. Over a thick black handlebar mustache his nose was large and crooked, as if repeatedly broken.

"No man ever got the better of me," was Trueley's boast. "One ever does, it will be the death of us both." He hadn't had to prove it to get the job, though, his predecessor having recently fled because of a new wanted poster.

James West sauntered in and surveyed the ruffians before he addressed the man behind the bar. "Whiskey." He totally ignored Mandrake seated prominently nearby.

Trueley glowered at him from under the dusty bowler. After muttering to those around him, he stalked across with his eyes on West, who watched with a raised eyebrow raised and a slight sneer.

"I know about you," Trueley spoke as he came close. "I'll tell you once. Leave now, before the meeting tonight, or you might have an accident."

West stepped forward, but Trueley shouldered past him. West caught the dark man's arm and turned him. "I don't take orders from people like you," he stated coldly.

Trueley responded with a coarse laugh. "Let it be on your own head if you can't take advice." He turned away and ordered a bottle.

West bumped Trueley's shoulder in reaching for his own glass. Eye to eye, they stared in the sudden silence of the saloon. Finally, the barman thumped the bottle down and Trueley turned away with another laugh. "I've heard about the Cavalry arriving in the nick of time," he said. "I wouldn't count on fairy tales." He walked away without giving West another glance.

"You never know." West downed the shot, tossed a coin on the bar, and departed to the sound of Trueley's cruel laughter. As he strode away, he fingered a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket and glanced at it. Four words were printed there: "All set. Due north."

He took a roundabout route outside of town before returning to his allies.

***

Mandrake strolled boldly into the wash at the edge of town, and looked over the men grouped a short distance behind McCardles and West. "I'm surprised you could raise that many of these desert rats," he commented. "Not particularly intimidating." Behind him Trueley appeared with a picked group of men.

"And you'll not be intimidating any of us into giving you your own way," McCardles responded.

"Let's stop playing games." West took a step forward. "We know what you are, Mandrake. You may be a little smarter than the killers who work for you, but you're just as much of a lowlife."

"Mr. West." Mandrake narrowed his eyes. "I didn't know the government employed men to insult honest citizens."

"Just because nothing has ever been proven against you doesn't make you an honest man."

Trueley moved up and growled low in his throat. "I warned you, West. You're not wanted here. You might have an 'accident'."

"Well, we all know if I do, it won't be by Mandrake's hand, don't we? I've met his type. 'Businessmen', dudes who don't belong away from the city and their boardroom schemes. Not man enough to do their own dirty work. That's what they hire head busters like you for."

"Enough!" Anger was apparent in Mandrake's tone, but he looked beyond West, to the men grouped further back. "Well?" he demanded.

Jessup had been edging away from the others, and now pulled a pistol from his coat. "All here, Mr. Mandrake," he reported. "You'd better watch that West. Got something tricky up his sleeve."

When West and McCardles spun to see the traitor covering the rest of the men, Trueley leapt forward and grabbed West. "We'll just have to make sure he doesn't get to pull whatever it is!" he snarled, pinning West's arms behind him. He dragged his captive back toward Mandrake, issuing orders for his own men to cover the cowering prospectors. "This is your only real problem, Mr. Mandrake," he said. "With him gone, they'll crumble."

McCardles grabbed Jessup's wrist to wrest the gun from him, then slung him at the gunmen, and roared encouragement to the others. They responded with ferocity their enemies clearly hadn't thought they had. All were quickly so embroiled in hand-to-hand combat that none dared use guns.

Mandrake and Trueley, however, were clear of the battle, with West their prisoner.

"Kill him," Mandrake snarled. "And bring in your reinforcements."

Trueley gave a piercing whistle. "That'll start them," he said. "But my job's not murder, Mr. Mandrake. We'll have him seen to after."

"I want him dead now!" Mandrake drew a knife from a sheath under his coat. "Just hold him still for me."

West ceased his struggle against the iron grip of his captor to stare. His eyes were glued to the shining blade Mandrake raised over him.

In the distance sudden gunfire could be heard over the yells of the nearby fight.

"Now, West," Trueley laughed. "You may be in the right, but it's us who'll be left."

Mandrake struck, and in the same instant Trueley released West, who dove to the right as Trueley cleared to the left, leaving Mandrake to stagger and fall to his knees from the force of his own blow.

A rifle volley roared as blue uniforms seemed to swarm the wash. The fighters froze where they stood. Mandrake lifted his head and gazed blankly around. "My men…" He blinked.

"That's them ambushing each other where I sent them a couple of hundred yards due north of here." Trueley's voice had lost its savage roughness, and he began to peel his mustache away. "Two groups, each thinks they've got the drop on our friends. I suspect this fine young cavalry lieutenant has detailed the rest of his squad to round them up?"

West was dusting himself off and picking up his hat. He glanced at the leader of the cavalrymen and received a nod.

McCardles came over, looking as astonished as Mandrake. "How did you do it?" he asked.

"Once I knew their plans, I notified Lt. Barger to hold his men in readiness, and where to find the rest of them," West explained. "We had to get Mandrake to convict himself. Now he's committed attempted murder of a Federal agent.

"By the way," he extended a hand toward the erstwhile Trueley, who was grinning as he picked the last bits of putty from his straight nose. "Let me introduce my partner, Artemus Gordon."

END


End file.
